8mi Chapter 291: [R18]One Centimeter Away
Chapter 291: [R18]One Centimeter Away
Victoria’s black sedan sliced through the streets of the Red Zone. Through the tinted windows, the street was nothing but a long trail of flesh and flickering neon.The Red Zone at its finest: on the broken sidewalks, crowds gathered in animalistic promiscuity.
Dozens of completely naked bodies writhed in a massive open-air orgy spilling across the sidewalk and the asphalt right in front of the club entrance. Men and women fucked frantically, women bent over in doggystyle getting pounded deep in their pussies and asses, others riding faces with their cunts grinding against eager tongues, while couples and groups formed chains of penetration.
Thick cocks slammed into dripping holes, cum and pussy juice mixed to form a devilish muddy puddles that gleamed under the pink neon lights.
And of course, the chorus of moans and wet slapping sounds.
Nash watched this circus of lust with cold marble eyes. For him, it was just the usual backdrop of the underbelly. But in the back, Dahlia clutched the grab handle, her eyes narrowing as the car approached the Midnight Rest.
The sedan finally slowed and turned into the club’s main driveway. The excitement there was abnormal. A dense crowd, much thicker than usual, pressed against the security barriers, screaming with excitement.
In the middle of this chaos of flesh, three regular staff members stood near the glass doors. Their faces were distraught, uniforms wrinkled, completely overwhelmed by the situation.
Dahlia leaned between the front seats, eyes wide.
"What the hell is this...?" she muttered. "There’s three times more people than usual for early evening."
Victoria frowned, her fingers tightening on the leather steering wheel.
"Or maybe..." she murmured.
She killed the engine. The silence of the cabin was immediately replaced by deep bass and crude, amplified moans pouring from the club’s exterior speakers.
Victoria opened her door, her assured and elegant steps clicking on the wet asphalt. Nash and Dahlia followed, the Nash’s ferocious appearance instantly calming the excited crowd trying to approach the director.
The head of security a scarred guy rushed toward Victoria the moment he saw her blonde hair.
"Ma’am... thank God you’re here," he stammered, hands shaking. "It’s chaos. Everything changed since three this afternoon."
"What’s going on?" Victoria cut in.
"It’s the new directives from... from Mr," the guard replied, lowering his eyes, unable to meet her gaze. "Mr. Reiss has removed all security locks. The Milking Zone is being permanently closed at the end of the week. He wants to monetize the space immediately. We’re all going to lose our jobs, Ma’am. He’s turning the club into an open-air brothel."
Victoria didn’t move, but Nash noticed the tiny contraction of her golden jaw.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"In your office, Ma’am. On the executive floor. I think... I think he’s waiting for you."
Victoria took a step forward, but the guard and the two other employees practically threw themselves in front of her, gathering what little courage they had left as alley rats. They clasped their hands, eyes filled with distress.
"Ma’am, please..." one of them began, his voice broken. "We need this job. Our families in the lower district are starving without the Midnight paycheck. Whatever happens up there... please, speak for us to Mr. Reiss. Tell him we’ll accept the new rates."
Nash frowned. This, right here, was exactly what he was getting bothered by from a while now. Victoria, true to herself, didn’t react. She walked between them without a word, her designer coat brushing their imploring faces. She kept moving. Nash and Dahlia followed.
They passed through the entrance sas. The club’s first zone, the milking zone, usually so explosive, so full of music, of chaos, chaos yes, but controlled chaos... was unrecognizable.
The usual crowd of lustful bastards throwing money at dancers had been replaced by the dregs of the Red Zone, let in for free through the wide-open doors. In the middle of the hall, moans echoed against the columns.
Dozens of couples and groups were fucking wildly across the velvet sofas and tiled floor. A curvy blonde was on all fours in the center of the room, getting brutally double-penetrated, one thick cock slamming deep into her stretched pussy from behind while another man underneath her pounded her ass, their balls slapping together with every synchronized thrust.
Next to them, a petite redhead was on her back with her legs pinned to her shoulders, screaming with pleasure as a muscular guy railed her cunt in a deep mating press, his heavy balls smacking against her ass while she squirted all over his shaft.
A group of three men had a busty bunny girl surrounded. One was fucking her throat hard, making her gag and drool thick strings of spit down her chin, while the other two took turns burying their cocks in her dripping pussy and ass, rotating positions and leaving her holes gaping and leaking cum.
Women were riding faces everywhere, grinding their wet cunts against eager tongues, moaning loudly as they came, flooding mouths with their juices.
Cum was everywhere, dripping from chins, leaking from stretched holes, pooling on the floor in sticky puddles that mixed with the spilled drinks.
A few bunny girls, tits completely out and skin red from friction, served cheap alcohol straight from the bottle to clients who grabbed their hips and rubbed against them.
Dozens of half-naked club girls, interrupted mid-fuck, turned their eyes toward Nash. His wild aura made the temperature rise. One of them, riding her man in cowgirl position, stopped moving completely. She turned toward Nash, licked her lips with a perverse look, and spread her thighs wider, openly inviting him to come take her.
Her partner, a skeletal alley rat getting ridden, instantly got pissed. Stung in his male pride and crazy with jealousy seeing his girl getting wet for another man, he grabbed her roughly by the waist, flipped her into doggystyle against the railing, and started fucking her twice as hard, slamming his cock into her with savage violence.
The girl screamed in pleasure, her high-pitched moans echoing, while the guy shot a hateful look at Nash to mark his territory.
Nash walked past them without slowing down. To think that he thought before that this place could be a good place to lose some steam... Now the thought alone disgusted him.
They headed toward the glass elevator leading to the private floors. The doors opened, but inside the cabin, this hell had followed them.
The club’s usual receptionist was being fucked in every hole at once. She was suspended in the air, legs wrapped around the waist of the first man who was pounding her pussy hard from the front, while the second man slammed his cock deep into her ass from behind. Thick fluids dripped from her stretched holes, her body shaking with every brutal thrust as she moaned in raw ecstasy.
The woman, completely out of breath, hair matted with sweat, turned her glazed eyes toward Victoria. Despite the obscene situation, she recognized her and let out an euphoric apology between spasms and sharp cries of pleasure.
"M-Ma’am... I’m sorry... Ah! ... Han... Mr. said... no restrictions today... Oh yes! ... I suggest... you take the stairs... the elevator is... reserved..."
The doors closed on her lubricious scream of pleasure.
Dahlia rolled her eyes, Nash turned toward the concrete staircase.
"This way," he said.
They began climbing the stairs. At every landing, the debauchery reached a new level. The Midnight Rest had turned into a meat factory. Lustful screams, spanking sounds, and muffled groans flooded the stairwell, saturating the air with the smell of sex.
Dozens of couples were fucking frantically on the stairs. Women riding men in cowgirl position, others bent over the iron railing getting railed in doggystyle, pussies stretched wide and dripping as thick cocks slammed in and out with loud, wet slapping sounds. Thighs spread obscenely for everyone to see.
As they climbed, several club girls getting fucked on the steps locked their eyes on Nash. His wild aura made the temperature skyrocket.
They finally reached the long red carpet of the executive floor. It was once impeccable, now soiled.
Dozens of people were fucking standing against the walls, in doggystyle or face-fucking positions, with continuous moans and wet thrusting sounds echoing all along the red carpet.
They walked in silence through this corridor of vice. Dahlia hugged the walls to avoid the sprays of fluids, while Victoria kept her head high, eyes fixed straight ahead, impassive like a queen walking toward the scaffold.
They stopped right in front of the massive double doors. The brass plaque still read: FINANCIAL DIRECTOR - VICTORIA GRAVES.